#moreso hurt/comfort

[giggly-squiggily]

hii! I have a request for your event ❤️ I came across this headcanon about Muichiro ~ sometimes when he sees his reflection, he gets sad or upset because the image reminds him of his deceased twin... like his other half is missing from his life 🥺 but luckily Kagaya and Amane are there to brighten his mood with some tickles! Trust that his adoptive parents will always keep a watch over him 🙏

Thank you for considering my request! I hope you're having a good day or night!

(Headcanons to Dabbles: OFFICIALLY CLOSED)

Oh this one HURT! But like- who doesn't love some angst in the afternoon! :D No seriously, this was fantastic for a headcanon, and I adore Kagaya and Amane being foster parents to him cause Muichiro deserves it! I've gotcha covered!

CW: Angst. Hurt/comfort, Character death mentioned.

He hated mirrors.

He hated how wherever he looked into them, he only saw Yuichiro. He saw his twin���s eyes, his nose, the almost permanent frown on his lips that shook with refrained tears. He hated that he couldn’t see his brother smiling back at him. Even when he tried to, it looked as broken as he felt.

Muichiro wanted to shatter the mirror. He turned away instead.

“Tokito? Come, join me.” Kagaya’s soothing voice stopped him in his tracks. “If you have the time, of course.”

“Always, Master.” He nodded, his feet carrying him where his heart hesitated. Soon he was sitting beside the older man, looking out at the courtyard. It was a lovely sight- a landscape of trees and greenery and birds chirping in the wind.

Yuichiro would like this.

Any comfort he had faded near instantly.

“Your mind is elsewhere. Do you wish to share?” At Kagaya’s gentle prompting, Muichiro found himself speaking. He told him about Yuichiro, about how his family lived in the mountains. He told him of the winters they’d all survived beneath several blankets, and how in summer he and his twin would go swimming in the stream to cool down. He told him of his parents demise- and how it stole away his brother’s youthful nature. He told him of their fight, and eventually, their end.

When he finished speaking, his eyes were wet, and he found both his hands were taken. One in Kagaya’s, and one in Amane’s. No words were needed, and he didn’t know if he could find them anyway. Instead, he squeezed them both back tightly. “I erm…thanks for listening to me.”

“But of course. You’re one of our children. We’ll always listen to you when you need to talk.” Kagaya smiled gently at him- the gesture making him want to cry all over again.

“Now now, no more tears.” Amane spoke softly from behind, her fingers tapping into his sides and making him giggle. “A heart needs sunshine after such rain. Wouldn’t you agree, my love?”

“Oh but of course. You’ve taught me that all too well.” He turned to the pair, smiling as Muichiro snickered and squirmed in her arms. “Hold him for me, love?”

“But of course.”

“Nohohoho! Nohooht twohohooho of yohohohou!” Muichiro cackled as his sides and stomach were prodded at, torn between curling up in a ball and rolling away. In the end, he just kinda took it, curling his hands into fists beneath his sleeves as he laughed.

At some point, he swore Kagaya and Amane looked like his parents. Another point, he saw Yuichiro. They were smiling at him, just like before.

He felt that comforting feeling from before seep back in, this time to stay.

[thisisnotkitty]

thinking about that scene in the fnaf movie where after abby got electrocuted she wakes up and mike reaches his hands out to hold her but she immediately goes to hug vanessa instead and you can just see mike's heart break as he lowers his hands

[tuhbanbuv]

Clannad Afterstory’s ending has permanently fucked with how I feel sad endings should be

like year fuck them up all you want basically just emotionally gut them like a fish, kill all their loved ones until they just stop functioning, and at the peak of it right when you think it’ll end on a depressing note

Have them wake up like it was a terrible dream but not only that

make them fucking BAWL seeing their loved ones just fine and dandy

have them rush them and hold them tightly with fear and tears in their eyes afraid to let them go, have them live a happy life they were supposed to SO HELP ME GOD

[todayisafridaynight]

The way masato could’ve used tape or something instead of a binder but I like the idea of him being so determined to be a miserable piece of shit that he didn’t out of spite (spite for who? I don’t even think masato knows atp)

BIG AGREE.....

[number-one-shadisper-shipper]

Me when the hurt/comfort has hurt before there's comfort:

[ddejavvu]

Cant stop thinking about Logan bending Wades darling little sister (in her 20s) over the kitchen table while Waded out on a mission. That is all I can think about right now

Insatiable - Logan Howlett x Reader

send me logan requests!

contents/warnings: smut, minors dni. age gap (legal; reader is in her 20's, logan is like... 200 years old.), wilson!reader, dirty talk, slight breeding mentioned

The only reason you're able to do it in the kitchen is because Wade isn't home, and you'd managed to shut the door on his pathetically endearing little dog. Mary Puppins is probably tearing up Wade's poor excuse for a comforter right now, and Logan is tearing up- well.

You.

Your pussy.

You're bent so far over the counter that your tits are cold, your nipples stiff and sensitive against the countertop. The pressure against them hurts, or maybe it's a lack of other stimulation against them- either way, they're stinging and you wish to right yourself and tug mercilessly at them.

But Logan's weight- not the full load, or you'd be crushed - is holding you down, your hands scrabbling uselessly at the smooth counter for purchase that you'll never find as you're rocked steadily into the cabinets below.

Logan's cock is buried so deep inside of you that you're not sure he'll ever get it out again, but then he does, and then he thrusts back in and you're hit all over again with a sense of shit, I didn't know I went that deep. He's found your limit, stretched your cunt to the breaking point with his impressive length, and his facial hair tickles the side of your face as he takes your cunt from behind.

Your face smacks painfully against the cabinets over the counter and Logan reaches a hand up to cover your forehead, "Shit, be careful. Head down, honey, there you go. Wouldn't want Big Brother finding an imprint of your face in the wood."

"Whaddya think he'd say?" Logan's suddenly snickering, a gruff delight to his voice as he rams his cock inside you once more, thrusting at a steady, merciless pace, "Shit, if he knew my old ass had his sweet little sister pinned up against the counter..."

Wade would kill him. Or try valiantly to, as it's been established before by Wade's best efforts that Logan is one difficult motherfucker to kill. But you don't fancy a bloodbath even if the vessel will survive, so you tuck yourself tight to the counter so that you won't have to explain to Wade why the cupboard door is off its hinges.

Leaning forwards more only pushes your ass out further, and Logan groans, dick twitching, as he's able to thrust more viciously beneath the curve of your ass. He's humping you like a dog, a depraved pace set as he chases an impending orgasm.

"Taking you in your brother's house- aagh, shit," Logan grunts, nose nudging against the back of your neck as he inhales your sweat, "God he's gonna drop his swords on this fucking counter as soon as he walks through the door, not- not even gonna know your tits were smashed up against it. He's gonna get coke from that cabinet in an hour," Logan's voice is strained, moreso the faster he pumps his hips, and all you can do is cry out as he ravages your cunt, "He's never gonna know I made his sister cream up against it. Never gonna know I fucked my fuckin' babies into you here, aah- agh-I-!"

Logan bites, hard against your shoulder, catching some of your neck in the process and introducing yet another blindingly painful sensation that turns into sick, twisted pleasure between your legs. Your cunt is spent, barely capable of another orgasm after you'd already had two fucked out of you before, but it gives you its best shot as Logan's thick, warm cum gushes into you, immediately too much for your poor pussy to handle as it drips down your thighs instead.

Logan relinquishes your shoulder with a low groan, his breath coming hot and heavy as he pants, "You alright?"

"Yeah," You whimper, legs shaking as Logan holds you steady, "I- I don't think I can stand anymore."

"That's okay." Logan hums, gentler now that he's fucked himself calm. He peels you off of the counter, supporting your body weight as he half-walks, half-drags you down the hallway towards his bedroom, "Next round's on my bed, sweetheart. You won't need to move a muscle."

[togeblurbs]

Do You Miss Us?

Five Hargreeves x F!Reader - angst with a happy ending (yeah… happy ish ending)

synopsis: when you find out Five and Lila kissed, you don’t know what to feel. All you know is that you need to get away. Because it was one thing for them to kiss, and another to realize that in the time spent apart, Five Hargreeves may not love you anymore.

content/warnings: hints of anxiety, curse words, cheating, s4 spoilers, mentions of disassociation, morally grey characters, not lore accurate, not really canon, doesn’t focus on the plot moreso reader & fives relationship, lmk if i forgot anything

“Y/n, please,”

you continue walking, wiping away the incessant tears that stream down your face. you feel nauseas, and your chest hurts in a way that it pains you to breathe.

he catches your wrist in his hand, and you turn around, angered. “What? What could you possibly say that would make this better, Five?”

he looks distraught, if not more than you and the thought has your hands shaking in fury. for what reason did he have to be so upset? you weren’t the one who disappeared for a few hours - which ended up being seven years - and then kissed another person.

“I fucked up, I didn’t… You don’t understand, I was losing my mind.” he slips his hand from your wrist to intertwine your fingers, but you shake his grip off in disgust. he looks at you so brokenly at the action, you almost feel bad.

but then you remember her, and you feel the bile rise to your throat once more. “I don’t understand?” you say slowly, taking a step forward.

you point at him, “I think you’re the one who doesn’t understand. I knew some shit was going on between you two, with your secrets and odd glances. But I trusted you, Five. You know why?”

he looks at you with wide eyes, seeming almost unsettled by your outburst. “Because I loved you.” you whisper.

you huff out a laugh, shaking your head as you wipe the remnants of your tears. “But that didn’t matter in the end. You were alone with her for seven years, so it makes sense. I wish you nothing but happiness, Five. Even if it’s away from me.”

you turn, moving to walk again, but he crashes into you from behind and wraps his arms around you. “Please,” his hands are trembling where they rest on your stomach, and although you want to soothe him, you don’t think you are in the place to at the moment.

you take a shaky deep breath, before carefully untangling his hands from your torso. he whimpers pitifully at the action, and you have to stop yourself from giving in and drawing him closer.

you used to bring him comfort, give him love and make him feel safe; but it seemed it was not enough; because in the end he chose someone else.

you turn back around, “I need some time alone right now, Five.” you tug at your bottom lip with your teeth, ripping the skin. you don’t want to look at his face, so you choose to stare at the chipped paint on the wall.

Five lifts his hand for a moment, before dropping it. “Will you come back?” his voice has never sounded so childlike; as though he can’t bear the thought of you leaving and never coming back.

you swallow harshly, “I’ll come back.”

he nods, his own arms wrapping around himself.

“I just don’t know if it will be for you.”

you take a chance and glance at his face, hating the way your heart hurts when his expression crumples.

back in the room, you were so sure he was in love with Lila, but now you’re starting to doubt yourself. because if he truly felt something for her, would he really be crying in front of you right now?

you don’t know. you also don’t feel like you have it in you to make any assumptions.

you turn around, your back facing Five. “I’ll see you later. Don’t follow me.”

and with that, you walk out of Five’s life, unknowingly carrying his heart with you.

-

Five lays in a bed - not his, for years it’s never been his - and recounts the last seven years.

he remembers missing you immensely in the beginning. for the first three years, you were all he could think about.

and then his friendship with Lila began to grow. the time he wished to spend with you, he was now spending with her. it was odd at first, because the two were not close friends of any sort. but when you’re trapped in a different time-line, or different universe, you become allies with those you normally wouldn’t.

somewhere along the way, they had provided one another with the comfort they lacked from their significant others.

it wasn’t supposed to end up that way. it wasn’t.

but now Five can’t get the way you looked at him out of his head; it was like he physically shot you in the chest, or told you he didn’t love you. like he betrayed you.

he grasps at his own chest, curling up into a ball beneath the covers. he feels like he’s going to die.

and maybe that would be for the best. he’s lived a long, torturous life. with a nut-job for a father, siblings that were always thinking about themselves and a lover who he’d ruined everything with, what was the point of life anymore?

its been a month since Five had seen you, and the ache in his chest has yet to go away. he couldn’t find it in himself to eat, often laying in bed as Luther force-fed food down his throat in fear that he would truly pass away.

it’s just another late night, and Five takes the time to stare at the broken glass window as the sun begins to set. the only sound in the room comes from the clock, the constant ticks helping him disassociate and think about you.

he distantly hears the door creak open, but is too exhausted to look at who it is. he doesn’t really care anyway, because he knows it’s not going to be you.

“Five?”

he blinks slowly. it almost sounded like you, but he figured he was hearing things at this point.

“Five,” he feels a hand smooth over his shoulder. gentle in a way he’d only ever experienced with you. his head turns, if only slightly, and he catches sight of your concerned face.

his eyes widen, he forces himself to sit up even if his arms have little to no strength left. “What are you… what are you doing here?” he croaks.

you sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed. it’s far too away from Five, he wants to pull you in the bed and bring you into his arms.

“Should I leave?” you glance at the door for a second, but Five immediately grabs onto your hands and shouts, “No! No, please. Please stay.”

you look shocked at his outburst, nodding softly.

the silence in the room is deafening, but Five is merely happy you’re there. Seven years and then some apart from you was not easy, and after his last conversation with you, he knows he’ll feel unsettled until he makes it right. if he can make it right.

“I did some thinking.” you start, cautious.

Five watches you with fear, scared to hear your next words.

“I’m not angry anymore. I understand you went through a lot being trapped again, and I can’t blame you for falling in love with Lila since she was there for you. I do wish you broke it off with me before kissing her, but what’s done is done.”

your voice comes out stable, like you’ve thought it all through and are content to leave things as they are. but Five is shaking his head the moment you say the word love and Lila in the same sentence, because that could not be more far from the truth.

“Wait, please stop it,” he begs, seeming desperate.

“I understand why you might think that way, but I do not love Lila.” he feels lighter with the words being spoken. he’s been aching to clarify this the moment you found out they kissed, but hasn’t had the chance.

your brows furrow, and you pick at the cotton sleeve of your hoodie. “Um, I see.” you look so confused, he can’t help but move closer to you.

you look at him, body rigid. you don’t seem comfortable around him anymore, and the thought has him clutching his chest in pain.

“Y/n, I love you.”

you recoil immediately, and it prompts Five to reach out instinctively.

the words tumble out of his mouth, like he’s scared you’re going to run before he can finish getting everything out. “I haven’t stopped loving you, Lila and I.. when we, you know, it was a moment of weakness after losing you and being trapped again. I wished every day that I could see you, but I was stuck.”

you move to stand, and a part of Five’s heart breaks for what he thinks will be the last time ever. because if you walk out of this room, he knows he won’t be able to love again. you are it for him, and if he doesn’t have you, then he’d rather stay alone for the rest of his life.

“I’m sorry, I truly am. I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore, but I need you to know that I love you.”

at the end of his little speech he breathes out, listening to his heart thump loudly in his ears.

it’s odd, he thinks. love has always been so painful, so destructive. but with you it was simple. it was calm, steady and soft. he wonders; he hopes, that he’ll be able to experience it again. after all, a healthy type of love was rare for his kind.

he watches you walk closer, reaching a hand out and placing it on his cheek. he leans into it, closing his eyes as he missed your touch immensely. you use the other hand to push his hair back, planting a kiss on his forehead.

his eyes shoot open at the feeling, and he stares at you in wonder. he begins to feel hope bubble in his chest.

“You love me?” you ask quietly.

he nods, “Only you. Only ever you.”

you exhale, shoulders drooping as you move to sit beside him. you wrap an arm around his waist and one on his neck, pulling him down as you lay on the small bed. his head falls to your neck, and he sneaks a small kiss in, hoping you won’t push him away.

“I can’t promise that i’ll forgive you completely. At least not right now. And I’ll probably hate Lila forever, but I don’t think I can walk away from you knowing you love me.”

you run a hand through his hair, feeling him nod into the space between your head and your shoulder. “I know, I completely understand.”

you pat his head gently, staring up at the ceiling.

“I love you too, Five. I don’t think I ever won’t.”

he rubs his face into your neck, and you feel something wet touch it. you card your fingers through his hair once more, cooing.

“Thank you,” his voice comes out shaky, but he hopes you hear the sincerity.

you shift the two of you until you’re underneath the covers, cradling him in your arms with his head on your chest. “Don’t thank me yet. I will be making out with Diego as revenge.”

Five lifts his head, “What?!”

sorry if this is ooc:>

[saksukei]

simon ‘ghost’ riley has a crush on you

masterlist | subtle things he does for you | simon my love

simon’s feelings hit him like a truck, as if he's a deer caught in the headlights. he only comes to realize it in the heat of the battle, chests heaving up and down as the two of you hide behind a wall for cover. you tell him to reload first and it's something so insignificant, so minute and yet it pieces things together for him. so he does what his first best. swallow the lump in his neck, ignore the swelling of his heart and focus on what’s next.

except

he sucks at it and boy is it evident.

it is so subtle though, subtle enough for it to slip under everyone’s radars including yours. except, captain price is no fool. he's known simon long enough to see the little change in his demeanor when you enter the room. how simon immediately sits up right, in his best posture, giving you a firm nod of acknowledgment.

how simon always looks your way, always. even when you’re not looking, he’ll still check what you're doing, where you are. it’s not intended to be creepy, it's just a form of reassurance that you’re alive, that you’re okay, that he has another chance to confess. (also the type to lean against the door frame and observe you)

what’s shocking is that even during his infamous cigarette breaks, he chooses to hang out with you. he adores the fact that it’s comfortable silence between the two of you. and more importantly, it contains the two best things he needs, silence and you. “what a view” he thinks to himself.

moreso, the lieutenant’s eye for detail is insane. simon is incredibly nuanced, he can notice when your mood is off, when you’re hurt, irritated or whatsoever. he tries to deal with the issue silently, like handing you a bottle of water, leaving a seat for you beside him, ensuring that he does most of the paper work and so on.

simon reacts at the speed of lightning if he notices you’re hurt or in range of fire. he remembers the one time he ran, grabbing you by the waist to make sure you don’t get shot. your small frame clinging against his, your body weight almost nothing to him and he felt lightheaded. he desperately wanted to keep you in his arms but he settles for asking, “you holdin’ up fine?” as he lets you out of his grip.

he enjoys bantering with you so much. such snide and snarky remarks all the time. from “what? can’t handle a little teasing from your superiors?” to “you know it's bad manners cussing behind your lieutenant’s back,” to “thought you were tough?” to “all that back talk, why don't you come and prove it?” he absolutely loves the reactions you give him.

moreso, when he begins getting more and more comfortable, he invites you eat lunch with him as opposed to with the rest of the soldiers. adores the fact that you both can converse without having eyes on the two of you. “plans for lunch?”

oh and of course, the most difficult moment of his life, when you reached forward on your tippy toes to fix his balaclava, simon thought he’d have a heart attack. took all of his strength to not lean forward and press a kiss to your forehead. “looking alright now?” he jokes, you can almost hear his smirk.

he hates the vulnerability, he does. but what he doesn't hate is the fact that it's you. it's you he’s being vulnerable with. and he repeats it to himself every night that you’re the best choice anyway.

[fumifooms]

I don’t like minimizing the importance and gravity of Laios and Toshiro’s fight into just being a childish squabble, even if to a degree it is framed that way, because to both of them it has a lot of personal significance and emotional weight and runs very deep to their characters… The fight isn’t nothing it’s a LOT, they made up but it’s not something easy to express and to get over for either of them which makes it all the more meaningful! I’m on both sides but there very much are sides, there’s no "they’re both having a ball, Toshiro and Laios hand in hand yay" side to the fight, that comes after

The fight with Toshiro WAS very scary to Laios, almost existentially so, but it’s moreso the "I thought I’d made a friend!!" bit and my god. My god actually

Like it’s not "just" about oh his friend liking him less than he thought, THAT IS SO MUCH. It’s a bond he thought he had being a lie it’s all the time and moments spent together either being a lie from his perspective or marred now looking back. It’s not only being upset at Toshiro for lying but upset at himself that he’s so easy to fool, it’s being upset that there’s something so wrong with you that you can’t even tell if your "close buddy" even actually likes you or not, it’s like. Holding my head. He can’t trust his own vision of events that happened do you see. There’s always this film of distrust that it could be a lie that should be there when he interacts with people there’s always this sense of cloak and dagger to expect backstabs out of nowhere because you CAN’T see it coming you CAN’T you CAN’T there’s something about you which makes it impossible so you CAN’T-

He’s so scared of not being able to read people. He knows it’s a weak spot he has, he’s always known. All of these bits are centered around social expectations and betrayals, the assumption that he doesn’t belong either in society or with other humans.

And Laios’ level of awareness is actually sort of complex to analyze, but it’s there, there’s how out of him and Falin he was the one sensitive to the ~aura of hatred~ he felt from the townspeople, there’s of course his nightmares whispering to him about the mocking looks, and how yeah actually he realizes that his gold stripper coworker was taking advantage of him. There’s of course the Winged Lion speech about his trauma and how he fundamentally mistrusts/dislikes humans to some deep seated degree, this distrust that he still keeps under control always. There’s how pre-canon he often wanted to suggest eating monsters but never worked up the courage to bring it up with the others. There’s how he gets across as stoic when he isn’t being enthusiastic…… We don’t know how aware and wary he is exactly in the moment but we do know he has some anxiety around social stuff, and looking back he does notice and aughh augh, the sense you have to hide yourself to not get hurt and be on your guard and shit and.

When you don’t know what to look out for and when to look out for it, the general ‘common sense’ of not always trusting people or noticing when someone’s messing with you becomes hypervigilance in social settings

"Man they really know what you hate huh". Being socially unaware literally plagues him, he knows, he knows it so well.

It’s so quick that it’s almost hard to digest how literal and blatant Laios summoning his monster to crush all the people who’ve hurt him is. His literal go-to coping mechanism for comfort in his literal monster-induced emotionally intense nightmares, saving him by taking away the upsetting element (the humans)

"Monsters are his coping fantasy, where they can whisk him away from humanity, all the hurt it’s caused him and its arbitrary rules" with the subtlety of a brick. Monsters are his comfort safe zone "because they kill humans" yes but no it’s because he pits them as the guardians against humans who to him are in the role of the agressors. To him they represent freedom from the shackles of what it means to be part of humanity, a fundamentally social species

[pearlywritings]

A slip of the tongue

synopsis: as smart as Alhaitham is, sometimes he blurts out things without thinking twice. It's good, however, that your husband knows when an apology is due, even though it doesn't mean you (and your friend) won't come up with something to pay him back with~

pairing and characters: Alhaitham x fem!reader

tw: established relationship (marriage), little hurt/instant comfort, a bit suggestive, Kaveh is lowkey couple's marriage counselor

word count: 3.7k+ words

a/n: wow, finally releasing this one out of the basement!

Here is the second part btw

Your cheek starts hurting from how long the knuckles of your fist have been digging into it. Fingertips drum on your knee, as legs stay crossed and stare fixed on the figure before you, sitting on the chair across the table and not taking the eyes off of the book pages. The most infuriating part of it? The figure is talking.

"...and so you should be prepared for Rajkumar's endless questions. He might not have any relation to Haravatat or languages at all, but he has a bone to pick with me, so being my wife puts you in a position to attack. And you know how annoying it is to converse with an idiot."

Yeah, probably as much as hearing what you are already aware of. You love your husband, you truly do, but sometimes the urge to smack the back of his head and tell him to shut up is too tempting.

All you said was that you were a little nervous and mentioned that tomorrow is indeed one of the most important days for you. After all, you are going to defend your second thesis, one you spent years to complete and pass all sorts of verification, reviews and censorship. Having the Scribe as your husband had both its perks and drawbacks in the process - he could easily push your work forward to the necessary people in charge of all the mentioned above stages of approbation, but then the fact he was your spouse put a label on you for those who were aware, and it said “Needs to be examined more thoroughly”. Though come to think of it, it’s pretty illogical.

Fortunately you never had troubles with that - after all your brain was in place, and both topics of your first and now current papers were innovative. Moreso, many of your Haravatat professors agree on your academic success and some of them expressed their hope to see you in the role of their colleague in the future.

But it’s for the future. First you need to become the Dastur, and for that you need to defend your thesis in the present. You have absolutely everything ready, no one knows your topic better than you are (maybe only Alhaitham can come close, since he read and reread it multiple times, helping with editing and providing impartial perspective), and years at the Akademyia taught you how to withstand the piercing eyes and prickling words of the jury. You will be fine.

Or you thought so, before just one phrase of yours started this whole exchange that is now happening in your kitchen.

“...and remember the part in the third chapter we discussed with you. This will be the one they’ll claw at, since it’s a turning point in a whole theory and I heard some of them already criticizing it,” the male hums, turning another page, eyes scanning the words written on a yellowed from time piece of paper. This seems the last comment of his, as he falls silent, reaching for the cup of coffee you’ve made him - in the process of which you were short-sighted to voice your concern.

When a minute passes and you do not answer anyhow to any of the valuable advice he’s just given you, Alhaitham lowers his book and stares at you. You keep drumming your fingers on your knee, eyes boring into him and almost unblinking, and it’s not hard for such an observant man to notice a barely-veiled displeasure in your tired eyes and a scowl.

"You know you could've just said you are worried about tomorrow too, and leave it at that?"

Alhaitham blinks, hand frozen in the middle of lowering the mug back on the table. He is holding your gaze and you can practically see the thoughts running through his mind, he is clearly contemplating how to answer your bold statement.

“Why would I be worried?” He finally answers with a question on your own, putting the mug on the flat surface. “It’s just a thesis defense, and if you get rid of your nervousness you’ll see that you already have the Dastur title in your pocket. Tomorrow is just a formality for you.”

“So you are not coming to watch me tomorrow?” Your scowl and frown deepens, fingers stopping abusing your knee and curling in a fist instead. Your husband sighs, marking the page with a bookmark you’ve made for him and closing the volume he’s been on for the past week. Then his captivating eyes are back on you.

“Scribe isn’t required to attend. Besides-”

“Yeah, yeah, you know my work enough to not hear anything new in my presentation,” you interrupt him and he can clearly hear rising anger in your voice that wasn’t there before. It actually manages to shut him up. “As my husband, as my support, are you going to come?”

The man feels a twinge of guilt in his heart. He always prided himself of his intelligence and attentiveness, yet just now he failed to assume what exactly you expected of his presence. Of course he’d want to give you a peace of mind by being there, but it seems he is too used to uttering the same phrase every single time someone asks him to come, that it was out faster than he had a moment to think it over properly.

He sees a bit too late how your face drops when he doesn’t give you an answer immediately - it looks like his pause appeared to be hesitance to you. He slightly panics when you lower your gaze and move to uncross your legs to stand up, having an almost iron grip on the back of the chair.

“Wait- Dear, I will come,” at that your eyes flicker at him, with doubt on display in your beautiful orbs. “I promise, I’ll be there.”

“I thought you didn’t like to be around idiots the whole day,” you huff, crossing your arms, reminding him of how unflattering his words towards some of his colleagues were. You do not mean to act childish, but tomorrow is really important to you, and obviously you’d want to have your husband be there to share it with you.

Alhaitham puts the book aside and stands up as well, rounding the table and coming closer to you. His fingers deftly touch your elbow, and you will yourself not to jerk it, some annoyance still bubbling in your system.

“That is correct. However, you are not one of them,” he murmurs, caressing your arm. You huff again, but this time your posture is more relaxed. “Besides, all you need is to be confident, and if my presence can assure you that, then I’ll be more than happy to be there for you.”

You give him a long stare. Your drilling eyes to his bewitching ones, searching for the truth in the greenish depths, while he stands still, waiting patiently, expecting your verdict silently. It’s as your frown softens, he knows you’ve found what you’ve been looking for in this kind of staring contest.

“Oh Archons, Alhaitham…” You shake your head with a small smile and the man feels relief washing over him. You are no longer mad at him. At least, it seems so. That is definitely good. “We’ve been married for years and it still surprises me how you can be a jerk - affectionately - one moment, and a completely sweet guy another.”

“Maybe just as quick you are switching from fuming to forgiving,” his palms are warm as they slide up your arms, featherly resting on your shoulders. Your smile widens a little and you meet him in the middle when he leans to press his forehead to yours.

“Yeah, yeah… But to your credit you were quick to fix your attitude, and as long as it’s sincere, I am grateful.”

“It is sincere,” he says with emphasis. “You know I am not the one to change my mind lightly.

Or rather realizing when an apology is due.

You hum, content with his answer. Yet, a mischievous glint finds its place in your eyes.

“Even though you are forgiven, I am still complaining to Kaveh about the mean and heartless husband of mine.”

“Of course you are,” he rolls his eyes, but you know it’s playful. He knows it too, and the shift in the mood is apparent, and he is thankful for its course to the positive destination. “I guess it’s deserved.”

“Don’t worry, he won’t be glaring at you murderously. Much.”

Alhaitham only sighs at your giggles. He could care less of what the blond architect would say about him, so he’ll survive some annoyed buzzing from the senior, and if the little exchange which is about to occur makes you happy - he doesn’t mind. Plus it will be good for you to take your mind off of tomorrow.

“I’ll trust you on that,” he finally says, slowly leaning back. You smile, patting the back of his hand still resting on your shoulder in reassurance. With a promise to collect you from your ‘girlish talk’ (you swat his shoulder at that) in a couple of hours, your husband helps you to make a new pot of tea. It’s quite ironic that this one is gonna be emptied while he’s the main focus of the conversation.

Minutes later, when you leave the kitchen with a tray, Alhaitham can faintly hear the knocks on the other end of the house, and the door opening not a minute later, the voice of the man you two have been housing for months coming clear and concerned. Kaveh remained your friend even when he and Alhaitham got in a horrible fight over their beliefs and you were partially the reason why the Haravatat graduate was convinced to let the blonde stay. Though loud, flamboyant and snarky, there is some perks of having him around - even if the architect always complains how he didn’t sign up to be a marriage counselor, he’s never let you or your husband be in a conflict for long (fortunately it happened really rarely), being your shoulder to tear up on or begrudgingly becoming an ear to be talked of by the other man and the foot that would kick Alhaitham into action or the hand that would gently nudge you in the right direction.

Or, just like tonight, simply be ‘your girl’ to chat with.

Alhaitham, as promised, lets you be for a couple of hours, meanwhile busying himself with his book. To outsiders this scene may appear weird and paint the Scribe in an awful light as a husband - but it is just like that with this man. And the strange dynamic the three of you have while staying under one roof: a wife, a husband and their… loquacious canary-like-therapist.

Only when it’s close to the time you usually go to sleep, does he also end up before the door of Kaveh’s temporary room, and firmly knocks three times.

“What?” Unsurprisingly it's the blonde’s voice, and by the tone of it he is pissed. The ash-haired male chooses to ignore him.

“Darling, let’s go to bed,” he calls for you softly. 

Alhaitham hears shuffling and muffled curses the architect surely prepared for him and some short, but incomprehensible conversation happening between you two. Not a moment later though, the door opens revealing your face, and your husband can’t help but feel extra weight lifted off his shoulders. No line reappeared between your eyebrows, no pout and no distress is written on your face. Quite the contrary, when your eyes meet, you give him the same warm smile you graced him with back in the kitchen.

“Sure, let’s go. It’s quite late already and we need to wake up early tomorrow,” you hum, exiting the room. Through the gap Alhaitham spots Kaveh sitting over some blueprints with two mugs on the table and a chair placed on the opposite side of the fine piece of furniture. When the architect lifts his eyes to glare at him, the Scribe slams the door closed. To your bedroom you returned with arms linked.

The silence of your shared space is comforting and is only disturbed by your light steps and rustle of changed clothes. The Scribe glances at you every two minutes, still a tiny bit concerned about that animatic exchange you had back in the kitchen.

“You know I will come, right?” The man suddenly asks you, as you’re fluffing the pillows. Your eyes slightly widen for a brief moment, so quickly that he almost misses it, but then they soften again as you chuckle.

“Yes, I know, dear. Sorry I reacted the way I did initially. It seems I really was pent up after all.”

“I could tell. You looked like you could bite my head o- ow!” He gasps when you throw your pillow into his face, which he catches at the last second.

“Oh, shut it, or I might get mad again,” but there is no anger in your eyes, only hardly veiled mischief. He drops your weapon of choice back onto bed and raises his hands in defense.

“Okay, okay, point taken. Any way I can make it up to you?”

At that your eyes strangely glint, and the scholar can’t place his finger on what exactly feels off about it. But it does.

“Actually you can. I’d like you to wake me up when you do, and let me use the shower first.”

And that’s it? Well, odd, but not disturbingly odd. Surely you wouldn’t go as far as to play some pranks on him by mixing something in his shampoo - you are way too intelligent for that. Also not one for revenge. 

“Of course. I will wake you when I do so myself, and let you use the bathroom first.”

Even if the mornings are not Alhaitham’s forte, he still opens his eyes disgustingly early, so sleeping for a bit more while you are at your morning routine sounds nice. Not as nice as doing it with you in his arms, but still quite nice.

“Thank you, dear. Now, if you are going to read-”

“Not tonight. You need sleep,” to that you smile warmly, crawling under the blankets, which he is quick to follow. You do not deny his embrace, and willingly scoot closer, extending an arm to put around his waist, as he does the same. Nor you turn away from a kiss he places on your forehead, pecking his chin in response.

“Good night, Alhaitham.”

“Good night, Y/n.”

True to his word, your husband pulls you out of the dreamland just moments later after exiting it himself. Cerulean eyes drink in your sleepy face contorting in displeasure, arms reaching over your head, and body arching in a morning stretch. He can’t help himself, leaning close and pressing a kiss just above the hem of your chemise, relishing the feeling of your heart thumping against his lips. You yawn, reaching a hand into his hair, but your breath hitches, when his mouth is suddenly on your throat, peppering it with soft pecks.

“Mmm… If you are trying to make up for yesterday you are a bit late,” your groggy voice is so adorable to the man. With you he tends to forget how to rationalize things. Yesterday was one of the times when his ‘Alhaitham for anyone else but his wife’ slipped into his interaction with you, the behavior he’s been trying for years to suppress when it comes to you. Now he knows he should’ve acted differently, and regrets his unique way of trying to give you reassurance. If only he-

“Are you overthinking again?” 

Your question makes him emerge back to reality. Eyes meet, and his heart skips a beat when you smile at him. Archons, you are beautiful.

“You know I am joking? Yesterday was yesterday, and you are already making it up to me, right?”

Words can’t describe how much he loves you, and at this moment he feels like he’ll never be able to express it fully.

“Right. Shower is all yours. Also,” he leans in again, placing a kiss on the corner of your mouth, “good morning.”

Your smile gets wider and you wrap your arms around his frame to kiss his cheek.

“Morning, Haitham.”

With you gone to the shower, the man buries himself in your pillow, inhaling the lingering scent. Sometimes he thinks he doesn’t deserve you. Your husband is intelligent enough to evaluate his own deeds and behavior, so he knows he is far from perfect to be someone’s partner. Yet, here you are, loving and accepting all his flaws - not without some complaint, but you are trying.

He might come off as arrogant to some people, but in arguments with you, he can tell when it’s his fault and not blame you for giving him a cold shoulder and requesting some space. He might look like he doesn’t care, but he cares for you, for your well-being, for your likes and dislikes, for your opinion, carefully storing all this valuable information in his brain, to show how much you mean to him. He is aware he has a long road ahead of him to get rid of all of his annoying conversing habits, but he is willing to keep trying for you. He seems to not show gratitude to anyone, but he is so grateful that you remain by his side, going as far as telling him you are proud to be his wife.

He wants you to know that it’s mutual.

That being said, Alhaitham is a smart man, but when he himself exits the bathroom after his shower time, his brain is reduced to just one thought.

You are absolutely gorgeous.

His gaze is chained to your pretty fingers, rolling the long, dark green stocking up your left leg. His throat bobs, when the elastic hem of it snaps against your skin, squeezing the flesh of your thigh a little. Then you take the second one, elegantly lifting the other leg and repeating the taunting process, but this time he is here to watch it from the beginning to the very end.

You happily hum, observing your work, and, satisfied, get on your feet, adjusting the band of your panties a little. Archons, you are wearing a matching set of the richest green shade. Lace leaves little to imagination, as his eyes flicker up to your chest, noting the pretty, natural swell of it and the outline of your nipples, and then down, as you turn around and bend to grab the shirt from the bed, demonstrating to him your ass and thighs.

His hand almost reaches out to touch you, to get a hold of the round globe, to sink his lithe fingers in your flesh. After all, your husband is not above earthly pleasures.

But your voice snaps him out of it.

"My love, if you keep standing like this in the middle of the room with just a towel on and no intention to dress, you might be late for breakfast," you chide him not even turning around and throw on the shirt, hiding the bra and some of the lower half, yet still leaving a bit of an appetizing view for an eye.

Alhaitham wills himself to tear the almost burning gaze away from you and redirect it to his own clothes, already prepared and neatly hanging on a chair. You mischievously smile as he takes a step to move past your figure. He's kept alarmingly silent and you are dying to know what reaction he has for your little plan. 

The man has just a second to react when you abruptly turn around and stumble into him. Big palms instantly grab your hips to steady you against his chest, and the heart quickens at the feeling of soft lace under his fingertips, peeking from beneath the hem of the shirt he accidentally crumpled in the process. Your hands on his chest are so warm, put out just in time to catch yourself, and Alhaitham finds himself thinking of how would've it felt if your chests collided - maybe the thin material of the only layer of clothes you have on paired with some flimsy bra would not make any difference from direct skin to skin contact?

"Ah, sorry, 'haithy," you sheepishly smile up at him, eyes soft and staring innocently, "Are you alright? I haven't heard you speak ever since you left for the shower…"

Archons, please, don't let his voice betray him.

"I'm," he quickly clears his throat, "alright. Was just about to start dressing."

You hum, pushing onto his pectorals to move away and continue with your own - though slightly changed - routine, but strong fingers flex, keeping you in place by the sheer hold on your hips. You look at him inquiringly, ignoring how the very tips of his thumbs just barely slip under the thin material of your panties to caress your hip bones. It's almost an absentminded action.

"What's with this lingerie?" He finally drops the question swirling on his tongue ever since he first laid his eyes on the tantalizing sight. It's hard to hold back a smirk - you admit you were a bit doubtful if it'd actually grab your husband's attention. Who knew the stoic man was into it…

"Oh, this?" Nonchalantly you tug on the collar of your shirt and Alhaitham sharply inhales upon catching a glimpse of your barely covered breast again. "Do not worry, habibi, it is not to seduce you," he is not that sure about it. 

Taking his hands in yours, you pry them off of your body and put them back to his sides, gracing his waist just above the towel with your touch. He shivers.

"I know it's different from what I usually wear, especially to work," you admit, turning around again, to grab the robes of the Akademyia's scholar. "But I really-really loved this one I purchased a couple of weeks ago on that outing with the girls. I feel so beautiful in it," fuck, you are. "And today is a special day. Want to have some confidence, you know?"

And as the rest of your body disappears under the long article of clothing, Alhaitham is finally aware of what this whole thing is about.

It's going to be an agonizingly endless day, where the only thing he can do is watch.

[factorydefaultlu]

id love to read about your open relationship with alastor and lucifer. as a powerful overlord in your own right, why should you limit your bliss? they each meet different needs in you: luci is a lovestruck sub/service top while alastor can put you in your place and teach discipline. they are both aware of the other. they are both jealous and possessive. occasionally they fight (but it's *totally* not about you) then try and out-do each other in the bedroom as revenge. you might finally teach them to share..

(ps maybe a comfort scene where lucifer is sad about alastor hurting/marking you?)

Sharing is Caring

Alastor x GN!Reader x Lucifer

TW: biting, spitting, spanking, hickeys, oral (reader receiving no genitalia specified, fingering, penetrative sex, jealousy, possessive behavior

What fresh hell have you gotten yourself into? No pun intended.

How you managed to pull both the king of hell and a powerful overlord is beyond comprehension, even if you're an overlord yourself.

Both Al and Luci would argue over who had you first, and who you love more. Fighting like cats and dogs over your praise and affection.

⚪

Lucifer's way of fucking you- Or making love as he'd prefer to call it- is very hands on and gentle. This man cannot get enough of you ever.

Kisses over all the bruises and marks Al left on you. Mutters about how Al is a filthy animal and a disgrace for treating someone as lovely as you like a punching bag.

Luci is the definition of a simp, and finds himself with his head between your legs often. His tongue and fingers gently opening you up and prepping you for his cock.

You will cum at least twice before Luci would even dream of sticking his dick in you.

Always trying to one up Al, and although he tries his best to not mention the prick, he finds himself asking if Alastor is able to make you feel as good as he does.

This guy is the king of hell? How? He's too nice.

Anyway, he's not focused on his pleasure in the slightest. Sure cumming would be nice, especially inside you. (The breeding kink this man has is insane.) But if he exhausts you before he gets the chance then he's perfectly content with providing you with aftercare and then going to take care of himself.

⚪

Alastor is on the direct opposite side of the coin. He doesn't even have to mention Luci. He's not so insecure that he has to doubt his prowess in bed (yeah right, he thinks about it all the time) He knows he's better.

That being said, he likes to leave marks all over your body. A triple threat of wanting to mark you as his, give you a reminder of how much better he is than Luci, and a reminder to the Big Man™ himself as to who you truly belong to.

Bites, hickeys, hand prints, bruises. Hell, he'd even go as far as burning or cutting you to leave a mark.

Alastor fucks like an animal. He starts out as a composed dom, breaking you down and ramming you into subspace.

Al likes to hear you beg, and cry. The image of tears running down your face as you beg for his cock makes him painfully hard.

Enjoys laying you over his lap and spanking you until you're ass is raw and your throat is hoarse from screaming.

When he finally does decide to fuck you he gets possessive. Even moreso than before.

"Mine, mine, mine." is what he'd growl in your ear as he stretches you open on his cock.

Will cum inside you to further mark you as his, and he likes to watch it drip out of it.

⚪

Getting them into the same room, let alone the same bed is a feat all on its own. They might wind up just hatefucking each other while you watch.

That'd certainly be a show.

[milksnake-tea]

━━ die with a smile .

In every zombie apocalypse, there's always one who is immune to the infection. And Blade, it seems, is the unlucky one who has to carry that burden.

blade x gn!reader (kinda. relationship is ambiguous)

contains: gorey language (rotting flesh, wounds), zombie apocalypse au, horror(???? I GUESS????? I DONT EVEN KNOW BRO), reader dies lol, blade got major issues

wc: 2.4k

a/n: lord i am NOT good with horror BUT !!! might as well give this a try. if you can call this horror. I DONT EVEN KNOW I DONT WRITE OR READ HORROR IM JUST A GIRL anyways. this is for @stellaronhvnters's event that's happening rn! the prompt i ended up choosing was zombie, and i hope i brought it to life! i am actually so sad i wasn't allowed to write for sunday. can you believe this. SIGHS

taglist: @sh0jun , @themoderatelyawesomeninja , @xphantasmagoriax , @rainswept , @lucensei , @akutasoda , @naraven , @scribs-dibs , @apathicace , @flurrina , @tragedy-of-commons , @cakechase , @kiiyoooo

Immune.

It is a word that Blade has heard time and time over again, and a word he has grown to hate.

Immune. Immortal.

A blessing, it is, to any other soul, especially in an apocalypse such as this. In a world where survival itself is a luxury, and comfort even moreso, what sane person wouldn’t wish for eternal life - or better yet, a life without fear of death?

They say he is lucky, the others. They say that he is blessed, and that whatever cruel deity overlooked this world must’ve found a sliver of fondness towards him.

They say that he is not human, the others. They say that he is something entirely else - not someone, no, something that cannot possibly fathom the pains of humanity, of a mortal life.

And so they say, why not let him bear the weight of a savior? After all, blessings must be used, and they cannot allow Blade to be selfish.

A pity, truly. They seemed to have forgotten, the others, that no matter how blessed he may seem, the deity is still cruel, and will not stand for shortcuts.

And so, Blade has long forgotten the meaning of the word “companion”.

Days pass like seconds in his constant weariness, and his body has become something akin to that of a clock; going through the motions, surviving but not living. His eyes bear witness to the downfall of his home, and yet he cannot see it - he cannot see anything; not the once-vivid colors of nature nor the once-bright streams of light that dare to warm his barely living skin.

He knows not where he is right now. All he knows is that he is injured, a gash on his arm that streams with useless blood. It will heal in due time, which is why…

“This is unnecessary,” he rasps.

If you had a name, he doesn’t remember it. Your face is blurred as everything else in this world is. You’re one of many, hundreds, that he has traveled with - why, he doesn’t know. Perhaps he feels some sort of obligation, like the ones the others have said long ago, to protect those who aren’t favored like he is.

But that isn’t Blade’s main concern. What is, is the bandages binding his wound, bleeding bandages that are wasted on someone of his constitution.

“I will heal,” he continues, his voice a repetitive drawl. “Save it for your own skin.”

And yet the bandages do not fall - in fact, they may have tightened.

“Your blessing allows you to recover from injuries and pain,” you reply, weariness wearing down your own voice, and yet there is a spark of indignation beneath the exhaustion. “It does not excuse you of pain.”

Blade scoffs. “I am not so weak as to kneel from such an insignificant wound.”

“But it hurts, doesn’t it?”

He blinks. Seizing his stunned silence, you continue.

“While your body takes the time to heal, it becomes prey to infections, parasites, all of which are painful and annoying to deal with, as I’m sure you know. It isn’t wise to rely on your blessings all the time.”

But it’ll only take a second. Gods work quick, after all, and their blessings quicker. He has no need for your bandages nor for your ointment.

He sighs.

“Do what you want.”

He doesn’t have the energy to argue much further. If this futile attempt at aiding him is what will calm you, then he will bear with it.

Blade rears his head slightly so that he can catch a glimpse of the wasteland that lies outside the broken-down shack you’ve temporarily taken refuge in. The streets are quiet - for now. But evidence of past destruction stains the road in warning: do not stay, do not yield. Do not think you are safe, for even a moment, because that is when they will strike.

And they will come, the victims and the assailants, with their rotting flesh and grey skin, and you will have but two options: survive and remember, or join them in their pack.

Both you and Blade are well aware of this fact, evident by the fact that you are still human. No one survives long in a world like this without some sort of wits on them, which makes your insistence on treating him all the more befuddling.

He inhales, and the stench of decay fills his nostrils.

They will be here soon.

He stands up abruptly, interrupting your work and leaving the bandage untied. With a grunt, he finishes the binding himself, cutting off the excess with his namesake.

“We can’t afford to dally,” he says gruffly as he pulls on his black coat once more, hiding the bandages and shielding his scars from past battles. “Come.”

He doesn’t wait for your answer. If you have any brains in there, you’ll follow.

It’s eerie, the way fog curls and billows like smoke as he wretches open the door. He cannot feel the wind, but he sees it well enough in the way it drags the fallen clouds across the deserted earth and tickles what little life is left in the leaves of wilted trees.

He hears your footsteps behind him, along with a little sigh, and he resumes his march.

Dried leaves crack under his boots. The air is quiet, as if he were in a vacuum chamber, too quiet. He wonders how long ago it had been since these dirtied streets were clean and covered not by leaves and dried flesh, but by the pit-pats of dozens of people, all on their next chapter of life.

The silence is deafening. His brows furrow slightly.

With a glance back at you, he confirms his suspicions. Your hackles are raised, and the grip on your weapon has switched from idle to offensive. You peer into the fog’s depths, scanning the premises for anything, live or dead, that might be hiding.

Neither of you dare to speak. Talking only sets them off.

But then again, if they are really here, there is little you can do to deter them.

They come in packs - at least, most of them do. Like the humans they used to be, they can be quite fickle. Most prefer each other’s company - if they can call it company, but there are always one or two or five who go on their own, and those either die quickly or become stronger than what is manageable.

His breath mists from his slightly parted lips.

He breathes in through his nose.

The air is sour.

He stops.

He listens.

And then he hears it - the crack of a leaf, crushed under a foot that is neither his nor yours.

Instinct seizes him and he whirls and grabs you and throws you out of the way. Steel meets flesh, carving it with the precision of a butcher and the life he used to have. He faintly registers cold blood as it coats his face in a splatter, its iron taste on the tip of his tongue as he shouts at you,

“Go!”

They come in packs, the creatures. As they swarm him like an infestation of houseflies, Blade begins to miss the eerie silence.

He plunges into a familiar, red-tinted haze. He slashes and slices and cuts through corpses of those who should’ve been put to rest. Rotted teeth bite into his arms (he briefly remembers your insistence on infection) and he kicks them off and his namesake soon follows.

Undying, the two of them are. They are more similar than the others like to admit, but truth is, they are both cursed by the deity. Never will they live, never will they die. Forever, they must exist in this world, until all that’s left of them is a memory.

For how much longer must he endure this? For how much longer must he fight?

He’s tired.

He wants to sleep.

But rest doesn’t come easy.

In the corner of his eye, another one of them lunges at him, falling teeth bared and eyes lolling from their sockets. He tugs his sword, but it is hindered - only slightly, embedded in the flesh of another. It’s a second he’ll lose, and a second that decides it all.

For a moment, he’s half tempted to let it bite.

But then comes a BANG! and then the distinctive smell of gunpowder and then his face is coated in body bits once more.

“What’re you doing?!” Now it’s your turn to grab his arm and pull him away. “There’s too many of them. Let’s get out of here!”

He clicks his tongue in annoyance. You’re loud, but you’ve got a point.

You shove him behind you and unclip one of the many grenades that hang from your belt. He knows this move well enough now, and therefore knows to avert his gaze once he hears the pin pulled and the bomb sails into the crowd of them.

BOOM!

The explosion is only just enough to startle their attackers and create enough of a divy in their ranks that you can push through. Blade leads the retreat, catching any stranglers with his sword while you keep your gun aimed behind you to ward away any pursuers.

He runs, as he always does. He scales hills with a speed that should’ve left his legs stiff and burning, leaps over canals that are flooded with pollution, and turns corners so fast that his neck might’ve broken. Only once or twice does he glance back to see if you are following. 

You are, although, you are slower. Something is weighing you down.

He runs, until he can no longer hear the groans of the deceased and the sourness fades away into crisp nothingness. The smoke-fog lolls back, and he thinks he finds peace, but then-

A weight crashes into his back, making him stumble. With a growl he doesn’t feel, he leers at you.

“What now-?”

He stills as he sees your state.

“Sorry, I just-” Your breath is ragged as you pant. You try to push yourself off, but your legs give out and you crash back into him. But that’s not what catches Blade off-guard.

You are like a second sun, with the heat searing through your skin and burning him through his clothes. His eyes widen as he fully takes you in.

Sweat drips off of you in raindrops. Your skin shivers in small, terrifying tremors. Your breath is short and rasp and choked and hollow, as if every inhale takes all of your energy. Your eyes are barely peeking open as you try to stay conscious.

Words die on the tip of his tongue.

You inhale again, gasping as you try to speak. You want to move, but your body fails you.

“S-”

“Quiet.” He turns you against his chest to assess the danger. Your chest heaves, and- there.

He’s seen it far too many times.

No. Not again.

How- When? When had it- no.

His brows furrow and his teeth grit.

There, tearing through your jacket and into your shoulder, ripped clothes and frayed threads, a bite, black, purple, bruised and bloody and slobbery. And in between, the beginnings of greying skin.

An infection.

His mind begins to race for the first time in years. Fear erupts in him like a sealed volcano as he fights himself on what to do with you.

He should kill you. Get it over with, make it quick before you suffer. There’s no coming back from a bite - you’re as good as dead now, so it wouldn’t be wrong, right? It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had to kill a fallen companion (if you could even call them that).

Yes, he should - he needs to do it. Now, while you’re still weak and vulnerable, while you still hold your humanity within your grasp.

In one hand, is you, a person whom he has only known for a month or so. In the other hand is the sword that has never left his side.

The choice is obvious.

Yet why can’t he make it?

“Bl…Blade,” you rasp. His glare pierces you. “I…”

“Don’t waste your energy,” he says quietly, almost gently. He doesn’t recognize his own voice.

“...this-” you cough suddenly, hacking phlegm for a few horrid seconds before you’re able to speak again. “This is- like a really bad time to say this, but… you smell really, really good. Like… like… like meat.”

He freezes.

Now. Do it, as you always have. Don’t think of it any longer.

Yet his feet are rooted and his hands are stone. Like a moth to a flame, his eyes can’t tear away from your face as you stagger, dirtied hands clutching at his dirtied coat. Your lidded eyes are hazy.

His namesake is heavy like a weight in his hand. Bandaged, calloused fingers grip and shift and relax and then tighten again around the handle as he struggles with a decision.

He takes too long.

You lunge at him with abrupt strength and tackle him to the ground. Blade chokes as gravel digs into his shoulders. Still-warm hands seize onto his broad shoulders with a grip so tight they might shatter. And above him, the sun halos your silhouette, basking you in shadow.

The grip on his shoulders trembles.

“Sor….” your language begins to slur, deteriorating into the common groan of them. “Hung….”

Blade doesn’t reply, too caught up in his mind and in witnessing your last moments as a human. Your mouth hangs open, breath and saliva dripping from it as the grey climbs up your skin in patches of mold.

“Hurs…” you mutter. “Hurs… so…”

Your hands leave his shoulders in favor of pulling down his collar in a manner that is hauntingly gentle. You pull, layers and layers of cloth down and away until his throat is fully exposed, Adam’s apple bobbing.

Fingers trace his throat, thumbs rubbing against it. Animalistic hunger overtakes your pupils, which have always smiled so kindly and tiredly at him, blurring all sentient thoughts away.

Blade squeezes his eyes shut. He breathes, feeling the air pool in his lungs.

And then, at last, he decides.

You scarcely resist as he switches your positions. He slams you to the concrete and raises his namesake, pointed tip situated just above your heart.

And then he sees you, as he always has.

And despite your clouded eyes, your dog-like breaths, and the mold growing on your skin, you smile softly.

But why?

Out of relief?

Out of gratitude?

Or… out of forgiveness?

Blade doesn’t know, nor does he ever find out, as he takes one last look at your life, soaking in all that remains of you and burning it into his memory.

And then he plunges, and the deity laughs once more.

And again, he loses the meaning of companion.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[darlingbabyboo]

"Baby, you're my whore!"

♡ Tokyo Revengers characters and their bimbo girlfriends ♡

Part 2 (Kazutora, Izana, Bonten! Mikey)

Part 3 (Hanma, Chifuyu, Angry, Ran, Hakkai, Inui)

Ken Ryuguji (Draken)

It has been said before and I will be one of the people to say it again

Definition of dress slutty: I can fight

Growing up in a brothel (with women that made sure that he was drinking his respect women juice everyday) he lets you dress however you please

Your skirt might be too short for his comfort, but as long as you feel comfortable and satiated, he's gonna bite his tongue

Who is he, to mess with what the love of his life wants?

On your stupidity

He's been hanging out with dumbasses all his life, if his baby happens to be a bit of a dumb fuck, he won't say a thing

He also thinks that you're absolutely adorable when you look at him with question in your eyes and say the most idiotic things known to man

A bit exasperating

But moreso adorable

"Kenny." He hums to show you that he's listening and continues fixing up his motorcycle. "What's the matter angel?"

"Why doesn't hair grow at the side of your head." He blinks and looks back at you, genuine wonder in your eyes. He sighs, and presses his forehead against the cool of his bike.

"Kenny, are you okay!?" He feels your arms wrap around his shoulders and your weight begin to press against him. You're ridiculous, but he loves you so much it hurts. He couldn't imagine a life without you around.

"'s nothing angel, don't worry your pretty head about it."

Takemichi Hanagaki (Takemitchy)

He's weak to you okay, he loves your short skirts that barely cover up your panties and your tight shirts that show off your lace bra's (if you even wear one some days)

You can say the dumbest shit or do the stupidest things and he'll be nodding along like a little puppy dog

Is it so wrong to be completely in love with your girlfriend? He worships you like a god and how dare anyone have the nerve to blame him?

You see the world in a way that he could never imagine, and you open his eyes to a world of possibilities

He just believes that he's lucky that you two are even together, you're beautiful and kind and even if there's not a lot going on in your head, you're the best girl that he's ever known

He just wants to be with you forever

You jump into his open arms, your arms wrapping around his neck and his automatically enclose around your waist. "Sweetie, I got a 40% on my test?" You say, cheerfully.

"W-what? I'm sorry. I know you studied hard for that."

"What?" You crock your head to the side and look at him with confusion in your eyes, "no, all I need is another 40% and then I'll be at an 80% average!"

Takemichi opens his mouth to say something, mainly, what in the world would make you think that, and how the hell do you think averages work? Instead, he shakes his head and gives a soft smile. He loves how you see the world, no matter how ridiculous it is, though he's going to need to talk to you about how grades work. He squeezes your waist, "I believe in you Sweetheart."

Takashi Mitsuya

He supports your endeavours, he even encourages them!

You want to wear a skirt that shows off your panties, sure! Just let him make a few adjustments and- while we're at it, why doesn't he just bedazzle that top too!

He wants the best for his darling, which means that you're going to be wearing things fit for a queen

It's in his nature to spoil his girl, so don't worry your pretty little head about any of the gorgeous clothes that you want, he's already on it

Though, there's not a lot going in your pretty little head, which he doesn't necessarily mind

He doesn't care if you stay the stupidest shit imaginable

You look at him with so much love and admiration in your eyes that he can't find it in him to worry too much about you

"Taka! This is so cute!" You spin around in your skirt, which raises above the lace panties that he also handmade for you. "Too bad about the people living in olden times." You pout.

Mitsuya walks up to you with a raised brow at your words. He wraps his hands around your waist, trying to think about what you could possibly mean. "Why, my love?" He finally bites.

You go on your tiptoes and press a kiss on his cheek, leaving behind a glittery mark. "They had to live in black and couldn't see all these pretty colours, like the clothes you make for me!"

Mitsuya nods along to your words, smile already pulling up at your words. He presses a kiss on your forehead. "That's not how it works my love."

You look at him with so much love and admiration in your eyes, expecting him to explain everything to you. He smiles, brushing his thumb against your cheek. He's so hopelessly in love with you.

Keisuke Baji

He adores harlots, whores, and anything else of the variety!

He loves the dumb, hazy look in your eyes when you come across something "complicated" (first time he's the smart one in a relationship)

Loves the things you dress up, encourages you to dress however you want, you know what, get even sluttier! He wants your skirt to be so short that your panties show when you stretch the tiniest bit, shirts so tight that you can't wear a bra

He loves his babygirl, and everyone's free to take a look at you

As long as they remember that you belong to him

"Babe, what's wrong?" You question as Baji grips his hands around yours and growls. You press a kiss to his lips as you try to calm him down. Greedily, he bites your bottom lip and deepens the kiss, hands on your ass.

"Asshole was flirting with my pretty girl. Hate when people try to touch what's mine."

You start to tear up, thinking he's angry with you, "sorry baby, I didn't know!"

"Nonono," He presses his lips against you harder, adoring the way that your red lipstick will leave behind marks on his lips, "not your fault- never your fault. Jus' means we gotta set his car on fire." You nod in understanding, not thinking twice of his act of violence. He gives you a wide, toothy grin, he doesn't think that he could love someone more.

Nahoya Kawata (Smiley)

Definition of a tease

He doesn't care how you dress (one of the people that really adores how you dress and would appreciate you to get even sluttier). You could wear a bra and a thong outside and he wouldn't bat an eye.

He just loves making fun for how naïve you can be.

"C'mon, one kiss!"

"No!" You huff, crossing your arms and facing your back to him, "'m 100% loyal to 'hoya."

He restrains his laugh, biting down on his lip. "Baby, I am Nahoya!" He manages to force out (though some giggles slip his lips).

"No! You said you were Souya! 'm not gonna fall for your tricks!"

You already are he desperately wants to say, but he's having too much fun messing with you. "Well, now I'm saying I'm Nahoya."

He doesn't need to look your way to know that your brows have furrowed deeper, trying to run through things in your small little head. "No! I'm not a cheater."

He sucks his teeth. His stomach's gonna hurt with how much he's gonna be laughing later. He turns you around and presses a quick kiss against your lips, you giving an indignant gasp at the action. You'll probably be whining about this later, when he explains what's going on, but this was worth it. God, you're a keeper.

Yasuhiro Muto (Mucho)

Not someone who loves the way you dress, wouldn't disapprove of it completely, he would never tell you how to do things or what clothes to wear, but he subtly encourages you to wear something else

It doesn't come from a bad place, he's just protective of you and doesn't want you to get harassed (he's also a bit traditional)

If you're determined to wear what you want, then he'll bend to your will. He would never let you be uncomfortable

He'll get used to things, just for you

Your intelligence, though...

He loves you through and through but he's always on the look-out around you. He has to make sure that no one is taking advantage of your innocence

"What's going on here?" The guys crowding you stutter away, looking at him with wide eyes. You don't notice the fear that has blanketed them and beam at him, running to wrap your arms around his waist.

"'hiro. These guys are asking if I want to hang out with them in, do you want to come with us?"

He purses his lips, yet another group of guys preying on your naivety. "No darling, I think we're going to go, I'm sure that these guys understand." He narrows his eyes at them so that they understand the consequences if they try to stay around you. They get the message, scurrying away like rats they are. You look at them with a pout on your lips, not aware of their dark intentions. He cups the side of your face and turns you towards him, "darling, why don't we see a movie at home." Your frown quickly disappears, a wide smile replacing it.

"That sounds great 'hiro!"

[soapoet]

Your first kiss with them

requested by anon.

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

You very well may have felt this one coming long before it actually does. There is a sense of pieces falling into place as you had forseen. For some, you may have thought about this often, consciously or not manifesting it into your reality. Still, it feels special and somehow out of the blue. Despite scripting the perfect scene you are still in for the unexpected. Like a director watching the actor go off script with a strike of genius, giving an award winning performance worthy of applause.

There could be miscommunication receiving clarity prior to this kiss. It is possible one or both of you spend some time catastrophising words spoken previously and in the time spent apart a mountain is truly made from a molehill in your head. It may take quite a bit of courage to bring this to the table, but it is so very worth it in the end. It seems almost as if this obstacle is what clears not just the air of concern about the matter itself but the tension overall as well. Your person is hit quite hard by the revelation of having in some way hurt you unintentionally, and as they apologise for their trespasses against you they find it necessary to come clean about how it is that they truly feel about you, which may come as a surprise to you even if you already had your suspicions. They speak to you so earnestly, opening their heart and mind up like a book that appeared glued shut for so long. You may even go off script yourself. Having daydreamed and rehearsed this moment, you may stray from the practiced shock and awe and simply accept their feelings and show that you knew all along. Which could be to their horror as they were certain they had their feelings under lock and key.

Their prior stoicism and the austere walls built tall and daunting finally come down to let you in. They will ask to borrow your time outside their obligations. For many, you'll be taken by hand for a walk, or simply away from prying eyes for a moment of privacy. They seem concerned about your comfort, and it's possible this occurs late, outside, in chilly weather wherein you are left shivering, though telling them it's fine. I see biting cold winds and your hand in theirs. I'll be honest, much of this conversation feels like a job interview as they gauge your compatibility. They may ask major questions right away such as your wishes regarding children and marriage, and expressing theirs. The conclusion is that you are compatible at your core values despite being so different otherwise.

This first kiss is contrasted by the cold, like a home and hearth amidst the snow. Often we think of cinematic kisses as the rest of the world fading away to make room for the lovers, but in this instance it seems more like the lovers merge and blur into their environment. As an onlooker, it's akin to a mirage. Two figures under a streetlight, there in one moment and gone in the next. It feels like two previously disturbed souls at peace, finding home at last.

Additional details: hair dye, boundaries, text messages and phone calls, nostalgia, snow and rain, flowers (roses and lilies specifically), shoelaces, caffeine, napkins, gifts, disney, mental health, addiction, breakups, stress, muscle cramps, insomnia, fairy lights, dancing, candles, blue eyes, 4AM, winter and late autumn, short trips, playlists, lip gloss, hiking trails.

02.

There is a distance which sometimes feels larger than it really is. For some this is moreso an emotional distance, but for many, this is a physical distance between you and your person. It seems that even the construction of the foundation had a steep price of time, and building upon this connection was a steady, albeit slow, progress. Some days you may have felt silly, wasting precious time and your youth on potential rather than promise, but you stuck it out and found that many of the things you so often thought were only in your head were true after all, and your feelings were mutual all along.

This distance, be it physical or otherwise through hectic and uncooperative schedules and poor timing, feels frustrating for a while. Yet the two of you stay strong and carry on trudging through the uncertainties and overcoming obstacles. The time spent on laying a stable foundation of sincere friendship pays off here as you both remain patient and faithful, and manage to work things out in your favour.

There is much anticipation going into this. For those of you for whom this is a long distance relationship, this first kiss occurs upon the very first meeting. Could be at an airport, train station, or some other mode of transportation. For those of whom this is merely an emotional distance or unfavourable schedules, this occurs at the very first meeting after agreeing to take the next step in the relationship from friends to something more. Commitment is very sure and stable, and you feel at peace knowing there is no rug beneath your feet for you to worry about being pulled, but strong and solid rock that will not crumble. A lot of messages and calls are exchanged, and you both feel as though you're a part of each other's day to day as if you've lived together for years. And thus, this first kiss may feel a little like making up for lost time, as though it's a formality that must be checked off the list as mentally and emotionally you are so much further along in the relationship than you are physically and must play catch-up.

Though it feels rushed, it's exactly as giddy and exciting as you had always hoped it would be. A warm embrace and a sense of relief, both filled to the brim with excitement to finally be in such close proximity and have the time and space to enjoy each other's company fully and undisturbed. A hug quickly turns to a kiss, and two and three and four. It is simultaneously bashful and bold, nervous and full of glee. A poor attempt at maintaining a balance between remaining calm and being chill, and the inability to keep your hands off of each other. Regardless how busy the environment, nothing else seems to matter than the two of you. Hustle and bustle, noise and people rushing here and there, with the two of you amidst it all in your own bubble of stillness.

Additional detail: linguistics, green, crochet, painting, singing, mozzarella, long hair, winter coat, autumn, pumpkins, cardamom, children, sleepovers, astrology, witches and wizards, cats and felines in general, politics, psychology, scrapbooks, baking, bills, anime, youtube, video games, typing, cars, small apartment, herbs and spices, nutrition, skincare.

03.

This scenario feels the most outright romantic and purposeful. There is something so very classic about this situation altogether, as though it is here to prove courtship and chivalry are both alive and well in this era. And yet, it feels new and refreshing, like the romance novels of old received a brand new cover and a modern twist. The courtship feels meticulous, but not uptight or strained. There is a lot of ease and wind in the hair you're able to let down after a stressful period. For many this may occur some time after a breakup or another interpersonal relationship which comes to an end and you find yourself ready to accept suitors again, or pursue them yourself, or simply putting yourself out there, so to speak.

These new winds in your sail may feel different even solely by the way in which this circumstance comes about. Your person could be quite bold, or direct in a way you haven't experienced before. They make their intentions clear and allow you to call the shots and make the decision as to whether you'll take their hand and let them lead you on a brand new adventure, or simply choose to not get involved. This prospect is alluring to you especially if you have felt previously you have waited for initiative to be taken without having to ask, always feeling as though nothing gets done unless you serve as the taskmaster.

Many of you could meet, or agree to go on a date, somewhere quite public and loud. A gathering of sorts, like a concert, party, or other lively event with plenty of eyes. There likely is an element in which these many pairs of eyes play a role, and I won't lie, the two of you may garner some attention and whispers amongst the crowd or people the two of you know. This doesn't appear to faze either of you, as there seems to be a good balance of public displays of affection and clarity that the two of you are indeed out and about together, and also spending time talking just the two of you, so gossip can travel without your care or concern, and the two of you could even enjoy the attention and the speculations, especially ruffled feathers of the few envious pairs of eyes.

Things seem lighthearted on the outside, but have more purpose behind closed doors, and you may discuss dreams and the future, expectations and plans, very early on. Though you're out proudly prancing in the sun together, it is not until it sets and you have the privacy of the dark between just the two of you that a first kiss is shared. It is sweet and gentle, but bubbles with unexpected chemistry. It's possible that something about this is very new to both of you. You could come from different backgrounds, cultures, or seemingly different worlds, or perhaps you are not their usual type or vice versa, yet it works somehow, and feels quite exciting and magical. There is a lot of security here, and a mutual understanding of what you both wish for the future to hold. Agreeing to take things one step at a time and look out for one another to make sure you both move towards the future in union, always on the same page, and have each other to lean on in case the going gets rough. There is a lot of passion here and it shows the most in your privately shared moments, though many may doubt what could possibly come of you two. It seems the unexpected seems the most stable experience yet for both of you.

Additional details: dinner dates, pumpkin patches, Charlie Brown, acoustic guitars, birthdays, calendars, live music, handwritten notes, bouquets, cinema, popcorn, red, meeting the parents, karaoke and singing in general, dancing, swimming pools, sports, motorcycles, muscle cars, brown hair, cuddling, smiles, archery, airplanes.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Take Me Back to Us

Fandom: Star Wars - The Acolyte

Pairing: Qimir x GN!Reader

Summary: You were content on being a Jedi healer. You found comfort in helping your fellow Jedi as well as anyone else that needed your expertise. However, you come across a stranger that seems all too familiar, and you're not sure why. Based off this request.

A/N: this is a lil more on the platonic side if you really look at it but its whatever

Qimir Masterlist

It was clear that you and Qimir were special. People around you treated you two differently, especially when they got to witness you two using your...powers.

Your village said you two were blessed by the gods or something. You two felt like you were children of gods when you used your minds to move things around or even start floating mid-air.

Then they arrived, these Jedi, who promised to train you so that you knew how to better use and control your powers.

The only problem was that you would be separated. Qimir would be going to Corrusant and you to Olega.

You hugged Qimir tight before you two departed. After pulling away, you two made a pinky promise, "Together or apart, you're always in my heart." A childish rhyme yet conveyed the deep rooted feeling of love and companionship. You two had a bond, one so deep that even the Jedi training the both of you didn't know how to sever.

You had a Force bond. Whatever the you felt, Qimir felt, and vice versa. Even planets away, you could feel each other's pain, yearning, loneliness. The Jedi Knight training, Master Ekwall, felt the disturbance and pain in you.

It became unbearable one fateful night. You felt a deep searing pain and anger within you, that you didn't know what to do. Master Ekwall, knowing your attachment to Qimir, felt it was him that was causing you to struggle in letting go of your emotions. So he did what he thought was right, he removed your memories of Qimir.

The last thing you remembered was leaving your home planet. A few years lost, but your Master continued to help you hone in on your connection to the Force.

Turns out, you're a natural healer. Although trained in the Jedi art, you moreso work in the medbay in Olega, aiding Jedi, padawans, and locals whenever they're hurt.

Occasionally when you work, you feel a heaviness in your heart, or a shooting pain in your head. You're not sure why and Master Ekwall said that when he took you in, you suffered a head injury that must have some lingering effects.

The local apothecary provides you a concoction that dulls the pain. The storeowner, Ohnell, is a kind older man that gives you a discount on whatever you need since you helped heal him years ago.

However, Ohnell isn't behind the counter today. It's a young man you've never seen before.

"Hell-" the man looks up and his words get caught in his throat. He clears his throat, "Hello."

You look at him curiously, "You're not Ohnell," you state as you cautiously approach the man behind the counter.

He gulps, "No, I'm not. Ohnell had some emergency and asked me to watch the shop while he's away."

You feel that heaviness in your chest again, the searing pain in your head. You hiss, grabbing the side of your head, leaning against the counter.

The man immediately rushes around to steady you, "What's going on? What's wrong?" Once he touches you, the feeling simmers down.

You look at him with confusion, "I-How did you do that?"

"Do what?" the man asks.

For years, I've been experiencing headaches and chest pains. I've been coming to this apothecary because Ohnell provides a concoction to numb the pain. But as soon as you touched me, it went away."

The man looks you in the eyes, "You don't remember me, do you?"

"Remember? Do I know you?"

Before the man answers, another person enters the shop. A young woman with a purple hooded cape. You take the opportunity to leave, the young woman eyeing you as you cross each other's paths.

As the distance between you and the man, grow, the pain starts coming back.

__________________

Mae eyes you through the window before you're out of view and then turns to Qimir, "Do you know them?"

He shakes his head and gives a little chuckle, "No, of course not. Just a customer asking about some products. Anyway, how'd it go?"

Qimir listens intently as Mae recalls her encounter with Master Torbin. He proceeds to make her concoction that will help her in killing the Jedi.

___________________

You stand back, leaning against the wall as Osha tells Jecki about bunta from her home planet.

"Is this the only apothecary in town?"

Kear nods, "It is but..." he sees the man that enters the shop, "That's not our regular guy. I don't know who that guy is."

You speak up, "I went in the other day. That man said Ohnell was away due to an emergency." You shake your head in shame, "I should have known something was wrong."

"Any suggestions of a plan?" Master Sol asks.

Yord steps up, offering his suggestion. However, Jecki dismisses it and provides a better plan. You cover your mouth to hide your smile when Master Sol takes up Jecki's idea. You pat Yord on the shoulder in pity, winking at Jecki, feeling proud for the padawan.

Osha heads down, buying a wrap to make herself look more like Mae. You all huddle around the comm in Jecki's hand as Osha speaks through her PIP droid, "I hope you guys can hear me."

She walks into the shop and hear through the droid her conversation with the man inside.

"Mae, uh, are you okay? Did the poison work?"

"That's all we need. Let's pull her out." Jecki, Yord, and Kear are ready to move, but Sol stops them, "Wait!"

"Wait, you killed Torbin without the poison. He will be so pleased."

"Go!" all of you rush down towards the shop. While you're not skilled enough to be a Jedi Knight, you never know if someone will get hurt.

You follow Master Sol and Yord into the apothecary after Osha's attempt at getting information from the man.

The man goes rigid, being surrounded by Jedi. When you step into view, he stares at you for a moment before Jecki speaks.

"We know you supplied her the posion that killed Master Torbin. We have your confession," the padawan holds up the comm.

"Wait, wait, wait. That isn't my thing. This is her. I didn't know what she was going to do with that stuff!"

Master Sol steps up to him, "If you cooperate, we will consider letting you go with a warning."

The man nods and distances himself from Sol, "Thank you, sir! Please don't do the memory wipe thing or whatever it is you guys do."

You continue to watch the man suspiciously. You feel a pulling at your chest and, as if, the man feels it too, he rubs at his own chest for a brief moment. The gesture has you even more confused about who this man is.

"What is your relationship to Mae?" Sol asks.

"I'm just her supplier. I started out gunrunning for the Hutts, now I supply people like her with what they need. For the right price."

"Well maybe you can supply us with the truth." Yord says which makes you want to roll your eyes.

"Who is 'he'?" Sol asks.

The man looks confused and points to Yord, "Uh, I thought he was with you."

You look at Osha confused and she shrugs. Sol continues to interrogate the man and then he provides something of interest, "All I know is that she wants revenge on four Jedi. If you wanna get to her, she'll be back here tonight. I'm holding some things for her."

Master Sol proceeds to list off orders to each of you. Jecki goes back to the ship. Yord secures the perimeter. Osha accompanies Sol and you are to go back to the Temple. The four exit the shop in haste, but you stay back for a moment.

The man's shoulders sag when the leave, "That was...intense."

"Who are you?"

The man gives you a crooked smile, "Qimir."

In your mind, you hear children's laughter. Your own and...someone else's.

"Together or apart, you're always in my heart."

"..always in my heart," you murmur out and Qimir's eyes widen, "What did you say?"

You shake your head, backing away, "Nothing. I need to return to the Temple," you hurry out of the shop in a rush.

______________________

You were knocked out in the battle. Thrown back by an incredible power of the Force. Surrounding you are various bodies of fallen Jedi. You look for any search of life, hoping that you could help and heal any that survived. You find none.

During your search, you come across the man behind it all...Qimir.

You unsheathe your lightsaber, causing him to stand from an unconscious Osha, his hands out, "I'm not going to hurt you."

"You killed my friends, fellow Jedi. How can I trust you?"

"You know me, Y/N, and I know you."

"I don't know you!" you exclaim in frustration and hurt.

Qimir remains calm, "Yes, you do. When we met, you felt something in your chest and you felt it again during that interrogation. You even said our promise, 'Together or apart, you're always in my heart.'"

You grip tightens on your saber, "If I know you then why don't I remember you?"

"The Jedi probably wiped your memory, made you forget about me."

You shake your head in disbelief, "But why would they do that?"

Qimir slowly walks closer to you, hands still up, "Jedi aren't allowed to have emotional ties to people. They probably wiped me from your memory because of the bond that we have. But it's clear our bond is so much stronger than them."

"They told me my memory problems and my head pains were due to a head injury."

"The Jedi are liars. They lied to me, to Osha, to you." he stretches his hand out to you, "Come with me. I can help you get your memories back and show you exactly what our relationship was. No lies."

You hesitate, weighing out your options. What if he kills you? What if he's also lying?

"I promise, I'm not."

Against your better judgement, you sheath your lightsaber, clipping it to your belt. You slowly reach your hand out.

Qimir immediately grabs you, pulls you in, and places his hand on your head.

The world goes black.

_______________

"Qimir! Get down! You'll fall!" a much smaller, younger you shouts up at your childhood friend in the tree.

"I'll be fine," the young boy replies, climbing higher up the tree. His foot suddenly slips and he loses his grip. Falling back with a cry, waiting for impact.

But he doesn't. He's floating in mid-air, slowly floating down until his feet touch the ground.

He whips around to face you and you drop your arms with an exasperated sigh, "Told you."

He rushes up to you with a wide grin, "That was amazing! How did you do that?! All I can do is lift rocks!"

You shrug, "I don't know. All I know is that i was really scared of you getting hurt. I held my arms out and the Force caught you."

"Thank you for saving me," he wraps his arms around you in a tight hug.

You giggle, "What're friends for? Now will you listen to me about being careful?"

He pulls back, giving you a mischievous grin, "Never."

Your eyes shoot open and you take a look at your surroundings. You're in a cave of some sort. You don't think you're on Khofar. You suddenly realize you hear waves crashing. You're near water.

A bowl of stew appears in your line of sight and you look up to Qimir holding it, "You need to eat."

You sit up and see Osha across the cave, eating in silence, eyes on you and Qimir. You apprehensively take the bowl, "Where are we?"

"Can't tell you," he replies.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Two days," he replies, sitting beside you on the bedroll.

"Two days?!"

"Your mind and body is catching up to everything you've forgotten. Honestly, I'm surprised it didn't take you longer to wake up," he looks at you with a smirk "But you were always a persistent person."

You roll your eyes, "And you always seem to be reckless and impulsive."

His brows raise in interest, "What do you remember?"

"You were climbing a tree. I told you to get down or you'd hurt yourself. You slipped, falling to the ground, but I caught you, saving your life."

Qimir chuckles, "That happened a lot when we were young, up until we were separated."

"So you two have known each other since you were young?" Osha asks.

Qimir sighs, "We grew up on the same planet. We discovered we were strong with the Force and Jedi took us away, from our home," he looks at you, "From each other." He looks back at Osha, "I'm not letting them do that to us again." He reaches over and takes your hand in his.

A familiar warmth and comfort filled you, like you knew you were safe and cared for.

You didn't know what was to become of you now. You've abandoned the Jedi, the way of life that you went a majority of your life learning and following. But being with Qimir, having him at your side? It felt right and you knew you'd follow him anywhere and everywhere.

"Together or apart," Qimir starts.

"-you're always in my heart," you finish the phrase.

A promise that you made when you were children and, seemingly, has lasted time and space to bring you back together again.

[scaralvr]

⠀⠀ 💤 GOOD LOOKING! scaramouche x gn!reader

synopsis: kunikuzushi is confused as to why his 'heart' craves something besides you, his lover. when he comes to realize he abandoned you just like his creator and friends did to him, he returns only to be greeted by nothing. ୨ sfw, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort ୧

⠀⠀📋 this is a short nd silly little filler post while i'm working on heaps of reqs atm😵‍💫 this is based off of suki waterhouse's song good looking!!

kunikuzushi seeks something greater in the comforting and quiet life he has with you. after three betrayals, he's finally found someone to love and care for without having to worry about them leaving. but why is it that his heartless chest yearns for something else? is it possible you're not what he needs?

he awakes in a cold sweat when he finds out. a heart. the puppet longs for a heart of his own. being able to love and be loved wasn't enough, or so he thought. one day when you leave to get groceries, kunikuzushi asks if he can join you, to your surprise. and of course, you could never turn down your lover.

you smile and allow him to go to inazuma city with you. you tell him it's good for him, that he has a chance of meeting new people and improving his communication skills. and kunikuzushi may have met people, but definitely not the ones you would've wanted him to.

tides thrash inside, baby, i'm high octane

you find your lover's presence to be something rare nowadays, as you're spending nights alone with an empty bed and a blank mind. it's not as lively without kunikuzushi, you would think. you turn to face the window and the moon is high and proud among the pitch black sky filled with stars.

the familiar sound of the door opening alarms you and you get out of bed with a hopeful smile on your lips. "kunikuzushi!" you greet the puppet with a warm welcome as you help him take off his materials. lately, he seems to be indulging in oddly different clothes rather than the ones you sewed just for him.

his gaze is so cold and distant. you notice this while waiting for him to speak up, but he never does. scaramouche brushes past you and slides the shoji doors shut to his room. your heart twinges for a moment. you were hoping to finally talk to him after what seemed like forever, but he must be busy again. surely, he doesn't need his lover as a thorn in his side.

fever in a shock wave, my core vibrates in an opium haze

scaramouche barely remembers he even had a lover to begin with. he supposes being occupied with fatui business has taken a toll on his memory as well, besides his physical and mental state. he allowed the doctor to perform strange tests on him after studying scaramouche as a specimen. he'll admit; the "harmless" experiments performed on him were rougher than he expected, but all's fine.

if he can't take on all of this pain on his own, how can he continue his path to stealing the gnosis and becoming a God? through these experiences, scaramouche has come to hate mirrors. when he looks at himself, he finds the same vulnerable boy inside him despite changing so much within time. the split ends of his hair remind him of how he ruthlessly cut it himself after his mother abandoned him.

he merely scoffs at the thought. only weaklings dwell upon the past. scaramouche is the present and future; he believes that the past is a waste of time and it will always be that way. yet through all of this time, he didn't even realize he left someone else in the past.

yet you think we're the same

scaramouche doesn't notice your disappearance until it turns into months, maybe even more than that. well, it doesn't matter, if anything, this should help. he'll deal with the pain all by himself like he always does and it'll strengthen himself as he journeys to the birth of his becoming of a God. but why does it hurt moreso than usual?

scaramouche doesn't understand why he holds too many emotions. he doesn't want to have emotions and he never needed them in the first place. he believes it's a flaw, along with the other mistakes his creator made when making him. he doesn't understand why tears cascade down his face in an uncontrollable state as he curls up on the bed, void of anyone's warmth.

starting at that point, he began to change into the pleasant yukata you sewed for him rather than his uncomfortable fatui attire. the scent of you still lingered in the cotton as he buries his nose into the material. scaramouche solemnly pulls away and looks around as if he just awoke from a bad dream.

"where are you... (y/n)?" kunikuzushi queries.

the skyline falls as i try to make sense of it all

kunikuzushi can hardly pay any attention to his fatui duties when he finally realizes your sudden disappearance from his life. you promised to stay by his side, and that you did, but where were you now? maybe you went down to the city and he simply didn't notice. although, your trips don't usually take this long.

kunikuzushi is aware he doesn't have a heart, so why, why is there an inexplicable pain in his chest where it's supposed to be? it hurts, he cries to himself at night as he recalls all of the innocent lives he took, their blood in his hands as he kept it to himself. a poor excuse for a God in the making...

he felt so useless and lost. how much time has past? for how long were you already gone? did you leave of your own accord? did someone else take you away? questions plagued his mind as he could hardly rest with such thoughts.

i thought i'd uncovered your secrets but, turns out, there's more

as time passes, he grows a temper that would make anyone turn the other way the moment they saw him. scaramouche is filled with nothing but loathe for this wretched teyvat he roams and the heavenly celestia that watches upon him. why did they take you of all people? what made you leave?

these are the type of things that he's thinking the second he sees you after lesser lord kusanali takes the gnosis away from him. he can't tell whether it's real, and in this case, it probably isn't. but he hasn't seen you in so long, he doesn't care if it's short lived. scaramouche allows himself to sink into your embrace, unknowing of the fact that he's falling to the ground after the wires of the machine detached from him.

"it hurts, (y/n). i don't want to be here anymore," he cries into the crook of your neck as you hush him, your fingers brushing through his hair. "you're the strongest i've come to known, my kunikuzushi. continue what you began for me. i'll be waiting for you."

a kiss is planted against his forehead and he awakes from his slumber.

you adored me before, oh my good looking boy.

in a frightened state, the wanderer looks left and right, searching for your whereabouts. it doesn't take him very long to find you, for you're sound asleep next to him. he slowly gulps and his hand hovers over your face in hesitation. dear teyvat and celestia above, can something go right for once? just this once, as he's suffered for so many years and he doesn't wish for it to continue.

your eyelids flutter open and he quickly retracts his hand. you look at him and your lips form a smile. the smile he came to love and missed for the longest time. then, you part your beautiful lips to speak, and your voice is as soft and gentle as ever. "what are you doing up so late, dear? you and the traveler have a busy day tomorrow, don't you?"

you ask as you gather all of your strength to sit up, still half-asleep. he struggles to release a sentence from his mouth, even a word would do good, but he just couldn't. his lips are agape as he marvels at your presence. you sleepily giggle, "oh, love. you can't keep slacking off, you know that, right? the traveler's little fairy... thing, paimon, is constantly talking about how you seem so lost in your thoughts all of the time."

"i..." a word. he finally speaks. "can i..." all of a sudden, tears begin to stream down his face and you're taken aback. "k-kunikuzushi, are you alright?" you question him in a panicking state as you're fully awake, sitting on your knees to examine his face. he takes it upon himself to hide his face in the crook of your neck, his arms slithering around your torso as he clings to you for dear life. his hands are clutching at you as if you were to disappear at any given moment, but it never happens.

the one and only time, can he feel relieved. his muscles aren't as strained anymore as he allows his frail body to make your embrace its home. you pause, your movements at a stop as your body is tense, but you rest your hand in his hair. "can i stay here? i don't feel like helping the traveler with whatever tomorrow..." he mumbles, hoping you'd say yes, at the very least. a chuckle escapes your lips.

"of course, love. we need more time alone, don't we? but for now, let's rest together." you pull away as he does and you slot your lips into his. he eagerly indulges in the kiss and his chest, though heartless, comes to be filled with a happy warmth that can cause a grin to break out onto his features. "rest with you... i need that, more than ever."

© scaralvr.